Safety Dance
by esnde
Summary: Just a little thing I wrote instead of my essay. It's fluffy and cheesy as heck. Seblaine. The inspiration (and title!) to this is from The Safety Dance by Sleeping at Last (originally by Men Without Hats). I hope you like it! Leave some feedback if you want to.


It's not that late; the sun is still shining through the thin curtains, causes transparent shadows to paint their bodies, and outside they can hear birds chirping in the trees and children playing on the street. Somewhere in the background a soft strung from a guitar can be heard through the speakers. Blaine hums. Sebastian closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, captures the scent that is all _Blaine_ and _home,_ and smiles.

The couch is usually too small for them both, they really need to buy a new one, but if they crawl together close enough, almost on top of each other, they can manage to stay on it together. And that's their favorite place to be, mainly because their living room is the best room in their apartment. It's big and tall and bright.

It's Sunday afternoon, which means a nap after dinner. In front of a movie if it's a grey day, otherwise with the room light and airy and soft music in the background. It has become some kind of routine over the past years.

"Dance."

Sebastian opens his eyes, half-asleep, "Hm?"

Blaine's lips are close to his when he chuckles quietly and repeats: "Dance. With me."

"Okay?" Sebastian says, slightly confused.

But suddenly the heat from Blaine's body has disappeared and Sebastian whines a little at the loss, sees Blaine walk towards the stereo to turn the volume up, only to soon walk back to the couch and grip Sebastian's hands in his, "Come on, we haven't danced in years."

"That's because I'm not a dork," Sebastian says but stands. "Looks like I'm married to one though."

Blaine sticks out his tongue, leads Sebastian to the middle of the room and sways to the music. "You love your dork. And you love to dance."

"Not with you! You outshine me!"

Blaine laughs and circles his arms around Sebastian's neck. "Poor 'Bas. Refuses to dance with his husband in fear of sucking."

"Shut up. You got me here now. Are we gonna do some tango?"

"No," Blaine says and steps closer, "just like this."

Their bodies are flushed together, Blaine's chin hooked over Sebastian's shoulder, and Sebastian's nose buried in Blaine's curls, hugging each other tightly. The music is thrumming softly in their ears and they move slowly over the floor, the wood creaking under their weight. They danced like this on their wedding night many years ago, in the middle of the floor with everyone's eyes on them. Sebastian had never been happier then, and now when it sparks his memory he can feel the happiness bubble up in his chest again. The warm, fuzzy feeling that almost pains him, wraps around his beating heart, makes him want to cry and laugh at the same time.

"I love you," he whispers against Blaine's hair, "so fucking much."

The song ends and a new one starts.

Blaine looks up to meet his eyes, leans up to kiss him gently, "I love you too, Sebastian."

It still makes Sebastian giddy and weak when those words leave Blaine's lips. He can't get used to them, no matter how many times Blaine will express them; calmly and sleepy over his cup of coffee in the morning, breathy and high late at night, loud and lively right before he leaves for work. It's always like the first time for Sebastian, to hear them. He gets struck by them every time. He knows they are real.

They keep dancing, and stealing kisses from each other, until Blaine's playlist reaches its end. The room is darker around them now, the sun low on the sky, and the street quiet. They land on the couch again, close and warm and in love.

Blaine breaks the silent minutes later, "It's your turn to take the dishes."

Sebastian moans, very much like a small child and not a grown-up man. "I thought you had forgotten that."

Blaine laughs and plants a kiss to his cheek, "We can watch a movie later. Or you can take me to bed."

"Are you saying I have to do the dishes and then we call it a night?" Sebastian says unsure. "It's not even late."

"No, I was thinking you could do the dishes and then undress me."

That's all Sebastian needs to hear; the plates are cleaned less than five minutes later.


End file.
